


Winchester University

by Center_of_the_Galaxy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Center_of_the_Galaxy/pseuds/Center_of_the_Galaxy
Summary: Maybe if we were somewhere else,If we had met in another place,We could’ve been happy.You're a second year student attending Winchester University for Hunting, Demonic and Angelic Studies, but even as you navigate essays, finals, crazy professors and your not-so-secret-crush on a certain young professor, you keep seeing visions of yourself in a different, darker reality.Are you a carefree college student? Or is this all some sort of weird dream?You're determined to find out.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Was tagged on Tumblr and asked to write something based on the concept of a Winchester University. 
> 
> What started out small, spiraled and now, I've got my first full-fledged AU.

_Maybe if we were somewhere else,_

_If we had met in another place,_

_We could’ve been happy._

* * *

Blood.

So much blood, staining my fingers crimson, soaking my clothes as I lay on the cool ground.

“Hey! Hey, stay with me!”

There are strong arms holding me, gripping me tightly, shaking me, a familiar voice by my ears, but it’s too late, I’m drifting, pain numbing into a dull coolness.

“Don’t do this! Keep your eyes open!”

_Maybe, in another life. . ._

“Stay with me.”

_. . . we could’ve been happy._

And then I’m gone.

* * *

As far as my mother was concerned, I went to a normal college in the middle of Kansas. A typical college with fairly normal subjects taught by distinguished professors who had published plenty of scholarly articles. And yeah, from its website, Winchester University did look like that.

But if you dug deeper, if you really tried to figure out the school, you would realize there is no information about how to apply for the school or how to get in touch with the faculty. It’s all window dressing, catering to your nosy parents and those who stumble across the website by accident.

Winchester University isn’t the picturesque school that it portrays itself to be.

In actuality, it’s a different type of school, made for a different type of person.

Hunters.

* * *

I could explain how I got into the school, but to be honest, it is all a blur. One second I was . . . I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m here now, in the place where I belong. 

The campus is tucked away off a beaten dirt path, protected by sigils that keep it out of sight from any who would do us harm. It’s like Hogwarts, but instead of spells and wizards, we learn how to clean guns and are quizzed on how to kill werewolves.

“Hey!” A voice calls to me and I spin around, smiling as Jack’s smiling face comes into view.

Jack Kline and I have been in the same classes since we both enrolled here two years ago. He’s the spawn of Satan—long, complicated story—but you wouldn’t have known if you just ran into him. He’s a kind guy, with a heart of gold . . . and he’s completely clueless when it comes to how the world works. He falls into step with me, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Jack,” I greet him with a grin, “You remember the paper for Professor Crowley’s class today?”

Jack’s eyes widen, worry sparkling in them, “What paper?”

“The paper on different demon deals and the bureaucracy of Hell.”

Jack grimaces, running a hand through his hair, “Crap, no. Think he’ll give me an extension?”

I roll my eyes, “Professor Crowley? Really?”

“Guess not,” My friend sighs, “He’s gonna kill me. Then, put me back together to kill me again.”

I laugh, patting him on the back, “He won’t do that.” I think about it a bit more, “Well, maybe.”

Jack just chuckles dryly.

* * *

I submit my paper to Professor Crowley’s box outside his office and move down the twisting office corridors. I pause when I see an open door, light spilling out.

“Hey, Sam,” I stick my head in the doorway of his office, smiling as I see one of our most dedicated professors hard at work, translating some Latin text, “Want some coffee?”

He glances up from his book, rewarding me with a quick smile that makes my stomach flutter, “You’re here early.”

Having a crush on a professor is nothing new, I’m sure. But there’s something about Sam that feels familiar, like I’ve met him before. My first day of class here, Sam took the time to show me around, to make sure I could find my way around the big campus. At first, I hadn’t even known who he was—just a cute senior, showing me around, making me laugh with some lame jokes.

Yet, when we’d reached the faculty offices, Professor Castiel had appeared, nearly colliding into me when we’d turned the corner.

“Ah, Sam, there you are. I was hoping we could go over the proposal for the class modification for next semester—”

“Class modification?” I echoed.

“Yeah,” Castiel replied, nodding, “Sam is one of our head faculty members.”

And that had put an end to my dreams with a sweet romance with a fellow student.

Still, as the year progressed, my feelings for Sam hadn’t changed, but I was able to suppress them. I kept working on my studies and tried not to let what could’ve been distract me from the present.

And now, for the past two years, Sam and I have been close friends. At 26, he’s the youngest professor here and only a few years older than me.

“So, coffee?” I ask him again and he nods.

I may be training to be an amazing hunter, but even I haven’t learned how to lie to myself.

I’m still in love with Sam Winchester.

And there’s nothing I can do about it. 


	2. Glimpses

Sam always takes his coffee black, but he somehow manages to scrounge up a different, fun flavor of coffee creamer each week. Last week, it was hazelnut and this week is French vanilla, my favorite. He pours me a cup, expertly balancing the ratio between coffee and creamer.

“You spoil me,” I chide him, smirking, “What does Dean think?”

Sam huffs out a laugh, “About coffee creamer?” He takes a seat next to me at the small wooden table in the faculty kitchen.

I take a sip of my coffee, beaming as the notes of vanilla hit my tongue, “Yeah. No one else here takes their coffee with cream. Well, maybe Professor Rowena or Charlie or even Kevin.”

Sam smirks, taking another sip of his drink, “Dean doesn’t ever come in here. He’s always leading field expeditions.”

That much is true. Seniors and graduate students are often out with Dean in small groups in his signature Impala, learning with what Dean terms as “hands-on experience”, completing low-risk hunts and tagging along on bigger hunts, often watching Dean work with Sam or Crowley or even Garth, when he comes to visit.

Dean loves being out on the road. Looking at him, with his trademark swagger and his easy grin, you’d never expect him to be a professor at university. You’d never expect to see him holding office hours or grading exams. Yet, when he returned from hunts, he did this and more. He was beloved by the whole student body and truly, he led the school.

Sam, of course, taught more than his big brother, but he did go out into the field. Should a hunt require research expertise or he simply wanted to back up Dean, Sam was there. He wasn’t rusty, as I had heard some of the other students whisper in the halls.

No, if anything, Sam is deadlier than Dean, because you could see a puppy dog eyes before you, but not see the knife that was going to plunge through your chest.

“C’mon, what flavor does he like?” I press softly, “He must try it.”

“Reese’s.” The deep voice resounds in the room and I turn my head to see Dean leaning in the doorway, “Hey, Sammy.” He meets my gaze, a flash of curiosity sparking in those emerald orbs, “Y/N, don’t you have a final to study for?”

“Professor Bradbury postponed it,” I explain with a smirk, “She has a prior engagement.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, opening the fridge and grabbing some coffee creamer—a small bottles of the Reese’s flavor, hidden in the back.

“LARP,” I reply, “Her Kingdom is under attack.”

Sam bursts out laughing while Dean rolls his eyes, “Thought I told her that school came first.”

“C’mon, do you blame her?” I ask him, “It looks super fun. Maybe we could do field work—” At Dean’s glare, I quickly let my voice fade and rise from the table, “Uh, thanks for the coffee. I better go study.”

I scurry away, leaving the professor I have a crush on, and the professor that intimidates me, behind.

* * *

Castiel is staring out the large glass library windows again. 

“You’re half angel,” I whisper to Jack, “What is he doing?”

Jack shrugs, “Beats me. Professor Cas is always weird.”

The library on campus is one of my favorite places. It’s filled to the brim with tomes of ancient knowledge from all over the world. Texts that the civilian world thinks lost are here. As students, we’re all taught Latin and some of us even choose to major in ancient languages. Sam teaches a lot of those courses, but main Professor Tran covers it.

“He’s been doing that a lot recently,” Professor Tran’s voice echoes behind us and I jump. Kevin Tran throws his hands up, muttering apologetically, “Sorry, sorry.”

“You have got to stop doing that, Professor Tran,” Jack growls.

“Seriously.” I tack on.

Kevin pulls up a chair and crams into our small study table. He studies Castiel with an odd look on his face, “I wonder what he’s thinking about.”

“Has anyone asked?”

Jack shrugs and Kevin shakes his head.

I sigh, rising from the table. “Wimps,” I mutter. Crossing across the plush carpet, I place a hand on the worn trench coat that he wears and—

_Castiel frowns, shaking his head, “I can’t let you do this.” There is someone else there, someone packing a bag, just out of sight, but the frame looks so familiar._

_“It’s me that he wants,” A familiar voice replies, “If I don’t go, Sam will die.”_

_Castiel grasps an arm, yanking the bag away, “He will never forgive himself if you die.”_

_“Then, I won’t die.”_

_A sad smile, a teardrop rolling down a blurry face._

—I jerk back, breaking the contact.

“Y/N?” Castiel meets my startled gaze, “Are you alright?”

My heart pounds, my breath exhales shakily, “Did you see that?”

His brow furrows, “See what?”

“Never mind,” I reply shakily, “You okay?”

Castiel smiles wistfully, gazing out the window, “Fine.”

But I’ve taken the art of lying before and Castiel isn’t good at it.

He’s hiding something. I’m just not sure what. 


End file.
